


Loud Like Love

by takenbynumbers



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:20:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27379354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takenbynumbers/pseuds/takenbynumbers
Summary: A brief window into Tseng's morning.
Relationships: Rufus Shinra/Tseng
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34





	Loud Like Love

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this based on a tweet from Maegraeth: "consider; #Tseng ironing a shirt in the morning in only his underwear, socks & sock garters... a crinkled roll-up smoking between his lips & eyes still puffy from sleep.  
> his hair is already tied.  
> the sun is low, warm & about to be swallowed by clouds."
> 
> So I wrote this. It's such a great little prompt that there's a high chance I'll just rewrite this entire thing again in a week or add to it. Title is from a Placebo song.

Tseng has never been a morning person, contrary to popular belief amongst his co-workers. He comes alive at night, wired with energy for whatever mission is in store. Right now, he stumbles out of bed at the sound of his third alarm, blinking blearily as he sets about his morning.  
  
First is his hair. It takes the longest to style and he is already itching for a cigarette while his fingers pull back pieces of hair, tying it neatly. It’s not quite as simple as the ponytail he had when he was younger but he had caught Rufus looking longingly at his hair when it was down once, and the look on his face was enough for Tseng to put more effort into styling it.  
  
Underwear next before sitting down to to pull the sock garters up over his calves and clip his socks into place. The sun is peeking through the clouds before disappearing - teasing and fleeting all at once through the crack in the curtains. Grabbing his pouch of tobacco from the dresser, he wanders out to the living space to head out onto the balcony through the sliding doors. It’s more of a struggle in the brighter light and he drops both the pouch and a filter before he manages to roll his first cigarette of the morning. Inhale – exhale - and he closes his eyes with contentment. He should quit, although smoking is far by the least questionable facet of his being.  
  
Rubbing the heel of his hand into his eye, Tseng wanders back inside to set up the ironing board. He could get _all_ his clothes pressed – and he does for his suits – but he hates how stiff the shirts end up. Mindful of the ash from his cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, he runs the iron over his shirt with slow, careful motions. To an outsider it looks like a mindful activity except Tseng is having difficulty seeing what he’s doing with how puffy his eyes are.  
  
“You’re going to get ash all over your shirt,” Rufus chides from behind him. He reaches up and plucks the cigarette from Tseng’s mouth and takes a quick inhale. Tseng doesn’t say anything, just continues to iron out the wrinkles as Rufus smokes next to him. “C'mon, I’ll roll you a new one.” That in itself is a rare treat – Rufus is notorious for pilfering everyone’s smokes all the while complaining about the pointless gesture of actually _rolling_ one. Tseng has long given up on arguing his point- that it’s all about the ritual and it stops him from constantly smoking all day if there’s effort involved. The few times Rufus has rolled him a cigarette has been - for lack of a better word - _exquisitely_ crafted. He rolls like it’s his job with precision and surety in every action.  
  
Tseng leaves his shirt on the board and follows Rufus out to the balcony, taking in the sight of him in the warm morning light creeping higher over the horizon. He’s only wearing a dark blue cotton robe, half closed by the sash. His feet look rather comical – almost white against the black tiling. And his heart swells as Rufus gives him a small grin, tongue flicking out to lick the paper, fingers twisting the end quickly. Traversing the new and very inappropriate relationship they have is confusing enough at times, but there are moments like this that Tseng focuses on that make him think it’ll be worth it in the end.  
  
Lighting the rolled offering, Rufus sticks it in Tseng’s mouth and steps forward to slip his free hands just under the waistband of Tseng’s briefs, fingers lightly dancing over the cleft of his ass. The smoke burns his lungs, and he exhales over Rufus' head, pressing his cheek against the side of his head. Strands of hair tickle his nose and he manages to not get ash on Rufus.  
  
The sun has finally come back out through the clouds, warming his bare skin and reminding him that he really should finish getting ready. Rufus' hands keep moving over his body, sending jolts of pleasure up his spine. He’s not as tactile as Rufus but he’s come to appreciate the subtle intimacy in such small gestures. Wondering if he can push his luck, he finishes the cigarette and extracts himself from Rufus to stub it out in the ashtray on the table. Rufus is quick to wrap his arms around his waist, pressing up close against him. He can feel stubble dragging against his back which reminds Tseng he also needs to shave but there’s no time if Rufus being this affectionate.   
  
“Make me a coffee?” Tseng asks quietly, still raspy from sleep. Rufus snorts and lets go, taking Tseng’s by the wrist and tugging him gently back to the bedroom. He lets himself be led, and sees that Dark Nation is still fast asleep in her bed, tentacle occasionally twitching as she dreams. Tseng doesn’t quite trust her yet but he’s grown to trust Rufus’ judgement on the matter given that he’s the one who has the most experience with guard dogs.  
  
Unsurprising, Rufus takes off his robe and hangs it back up before looking over his shoulder with a smirk. Through the small crack in the curtains, the early morning sunlight dances over his lithe frame, shadowing against the walls. Tseng smiles softly in response. He doesn’t have the time to spend with Rufus but they both know he will. Approaching the other man, he gently pushes him backwards onto the bed and climbs over him, kissing him deeply. It’s not pleasant- neither of them has brushed their teeth yet and all he can taste is sour nicotine – but he doesn’t care. He just keeps Rufus pinned down using only his mouth and hands on his shoulders until he’s gasping quietly against his lips, arching up to seek friction. Tseng feels the brush of his erection and chuckles, sitting back to straddle Rufus’ thighs.  
  
Rufus, lips reddened and slick, eyes half lidded, hair all mussed and so unlike his normal immaculate image. Rufus, whom Tseng will protect at all costs. Rufus, who makes his heart skip a beat when he smiles knowingly at him or casts furtive glances when no one is looking. He runs a hand over the flat plane of Rufus' abdomen, deliberately avoiding his cock. “If you make me coffee, I’ll suck you off,” he suggests, arching an eyebrow when Rufus groans loudly.  
  
“ _Bribery?_ I’ll have you fired. How _dare_ you.” Rufus' mock protests soon die down when Tseng ducks down to take him in his mouth, replaced by quietly needy moans. He knows he’ll have to redo his hair (Rufus always pulls it out of place), and will probably end up having to make his own coffee and run the chance of arriving on time instead of early like he usually is. It’s more than worth it just for these quiet moments that keep Tseng grounded and at peace with the knowledge that no matter what else is going on he has _this_.  
  
And that’s enough for now.

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me on twitter: takenbynumbers.


End file.
